


"I Just Live Here"

by allamaraine



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Brief Mention of Suicide, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Character Death, Non-Canonical Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 04:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2255937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allamaraine/pseuds/allamaraine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven scenes from Tal Celes' life. Hopefully not as sad as the tags make it out to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2367

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bajoran Refugee Camp, Unidentified Planet

Tal leans in the doorway of their ramshackle hut, built out of tin and cardboard and stray bits of canvas, watching the Starfleet officers with their crisp uniforms and polished pips moving from tent to hut to shack, talking to the families within. Often they are greeted with coldness or skepticism. One old man across the way throws a packet of Starfleet rations down in the muddy ditch next to his house, yelling that it is “too little, too late!” to the astonished Tellarite who handed it to him. Tal knows how the man feels, but she gives the officer who comes to their door a tentative smile, even sticking out her hand by way of greeting, as she has seen many of the Humans do.

The officer takes Tal’s hand and introduces herself as Captain Silva La Forge. Tal’s cheeks redden a bit with this information. She just shook hands with a real Starship captain! 

If Captain La Forge notices Tal’s embarrassment, she doesn’t comment on it. Instead she asks “Is this the Celes residence?” granting this rusty heap a dignity it doesn’t deserve.

“Yes, ma’am.” As an afterthought, she adds, “Sir.” Starfleet calls even their women officers, sir, right? 

Captain La Forge smiles and says, “Ma’am is fine.” The captain pauses, evidentially considering how to phrase her next question. “Are you the head of the household?” Tal is only fifteen but she knows plenty of other Bajorans her age and younger who are the oldest members of their families left. Tal is lucky, though. She at least has an aunt, as well as a big, gruff seventeen-year-old cousin, along with the peck of little ones, miscellaneous cousins and siblings, and even a few who don’t belong to anyone but who knew Second Aunt wouldn’t refuse any child who showed up at her doorstep. 

Tal shakes her head in response to Captain La Forge’s question. “My aunt’s inside. I can get her if you like.” 

“Please.” 

The captain and her aunt talk quietly while Tal sits in the corner and bounces baby Pazrel on her knee. He’s a quiet one – never made a sound the whole time they were crossing the Cardassian border, eight of them crammed into a cargo hold meant for hauling barrels of wine – and has none of the rolls and dimples babies are supposed to have. Still, he’s cute in his own way: he’s got that extra ridge between his brows, just like his mother, and tiny pink ears. Experimentally, she gently grasps his right ear, seeing if she can feel his pagh, like the Vedeks do.

Nothing. Pazrel yawns.

The captain comes over and squats down so that she’s eye-level with Tal. “Celes Tal, how would you like to go to school again?”

Tal’s eyes widen. “School? Like a real school?” She hasn’t been to an actual school in years. The prospect of having real teachers and desks and books and everything … but the Cardassians had told them they would rebuild her town’s school and never did. What if Captain La Forge is lying too?

“A real school,” the captain confirms.

“I would like that very much,” Tal says with an uncertain tremor in her voice. She looks at her aunt, who smiles encouragingly. Second Aunt must think it’s a good idea, or she would have shown the captain out.

“Excellent! We’re going to help you build one, right here,” the captain stands again. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll be a Starfleet officer too one day!”

“Me?! A Starfleet officer? I don’t know…”

“Why not? You look like a smart, capable young lady to me.”

 _Because most people here hate Starfleet officers_ , though she certainly doesn’t want to say _that_ to the captain. Instead she just says, “Maybe. But I can still go to school either way, right?”

“Of course! It’ll be open to everyone.” La Forge turns to Second Aunt again, “We’re even hoping to have some night classes for the adults in camp.”

“That would be wonderful,” Second Aunt grimaces, “But the adults around here might be a little more difficult to convince than the children.”

La Forge sighs, “I know.” As if on cue, they can once again hear raised voices, both Tellarite and Bajoran, across the street. La Forge firmly adjusts the jacket of her uniform and bids farewell to Tal and her aunt before heading out the door.

Second Aunt takes a squirming Pazrel out of Tal’s arms and begins to nurse him. “You know, you’d make a wonderful officer, Tal,” she says. 

“You think so?”

She chucks Tal under the chin, “I know so.”

Tal grins.

“Now, go find your brother and sister for me.” She blows a stray hair out of her eye. “They should have been back twenty minutes ago… I need that bread!”

Tal assures her aunt that she’ll find them and ducks out of the shack, trying to ignore the confrontation across the way as she picks her way through the muddy streets in search of her wayward siblings. Despite the grimness of her surroundings and the precariousness of their existence here on this desolate planet, Tal allows herself to begin to feel some hope for the future.


	2. 2370

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starfleet Technical Services Academy, Mars

The Humans are very proud of what they’ve done with Mars, a once uninhabitable desert with the thinnest of atmospheres. Admittedly, the terraforming is impressive, and they’ve come a long way since the biodomes of their twenty-first century, but the landscape strikes Tal as a little too cultivated, too geometric. Not that she actually gets to spend much time exploring said landscape. It’s a beautiful day and Tal is stuck once again in her room, cramming for a test. She has at least situated her desk under the lone window in the room, facing the small quad of the Starfleet Technical Services Academy, so she can benefit somewhat from the weak Martian sunlight filtering in. Unfortunately, she can also hear snippets of conversation and laughter from her fellow trainees, distracting her from her work.

“Ohhh it’s hopeless,” she groans, tossing her stylus down and glaring at her PADD.  No way she is ever going to learn how to do this. She had thought she’d do well with a specialization in astrometrics, as one of the other refugees at the camp happened to be a former astronomer and often took the kids out on warm nights to observe the night sky and taught them how to draw star charts. He was the one, alongside her aunt, who had encouraged her to sign up for Starfleet. In fact, he’d wanted her to go to _the_ Academy and major in Astronomy. She knew there was no way her sporadic primary education, mostly focusing on Bajoran history and poetry and religion, was going to stand up to the extensive Federation education most other applicants would have, despite the late Captain La Forge’s best efforts to catch her and the other children up. As it turns out, she’s just as useless as an enlistee as she would have been a cadet. The problem isn’t Bajor, she’s come to realize. The problem is her. In a fit of frustration, she sweeps the PADD, the stylus, and the various scraps of paper filled with nearly incomprehensible notes and calculations off her desk.

It doesn’t help.

Resting her chin in her hands, Tal mournfully watches the activities of the people outside. A Human is trying to teach a Bolian how to play some sort of Human game – Free Bee or  Buzz Bee or she doesn’t know, something with bees – that involves throwing a round plastic disc back and forth, a group of women have set out a lavish-looking picnic full of homemade goodies and are enjoying themselves quite immensely with the help of a bottle of something that can only be described as “green,” and a young Andorian man is excitedly reading something out loud from his PADD to his patiently listening Vulcan friend as they walk along the edge of the quad.

A pebble hits her window. She slides it open and looks down at the sidewalk below. It’s a Human woman, Emily, that she’s seen hanging around her roommate before.

“Oh hey umm…” Obviously, she doesn’t know Tal’s name. She quickly gives up trying to figure it out. “I thought you were J’Kara. Is she there?”

“No, she’s down at the shooting range.”

“Is she with anybody?”

Tal shrugs, “I have no idea.”

“Eh, either way I’ll find out. Thanks anyway!” The woman jogs off before Tal can say anything else.

The worst part about spending every waking moment studying isn’t the skipped meals or the constant fatigue or even the nagging thought that she is possibly the stupidest person to ever enlist in Starfleet, it’s the loneliness. Even her study partners eventually bail on her. She can’t really blame them. It must be incredibly exasperating to explain the same simple concepts to her again and again. The only reason her teachers put up with it is so that they can pat themselves on the back for their small contribution to the betterment of the Bajoran people and assuage their guilt for not having done more during the Occupation. Never mind that they can’t even get her name right half the time.

Tal shakes her head to clear her mind of such bitter thoughts. They are not productive. The only important thing is to pass this final test, so she can enlist and then she’ll be able use her Federation credits to help her family move back to Bajor. Rescuing her discarded homework from the floor, she refocuses. One, two, three, breathe. She can do this.

 


	3. 2371

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> U.S.S. Voyager, Delta Quadrant

Tal steels herself for another awkward meal alone in the mess hall. She thought that an assignment on a Starship would bring her the camaraderie and friendship she’d never experienced during training, but several months of being in the Delta Quadrant with a bunch of Starfleet officers who barely notice her and Bajoran Maquis who scorn her for having bought into “Federation propaganda” has cured her of that notion. Neelix, at least, always asks her how she’s doing, and sometimes Kes will sit with her, but they aren’t exactly friends. It’s clear both of them are much closer to the senior staff.

Turning around a corner outside the med bay, she collides with a pacing fellow crewman. They both land squarely on their behinds and simultaneously start apologizing to one another.

“I’m so sorry –”

“No, it was my fault –”

“– wasn’t looking where I was going –”

“– not paying attention –”

“– got a lot on my mind right now.”

“– as usual.”

Then, together, “Are you okay?”

A pause, and Tal begins to giggle. The other crewman, a Human man, sciences blue, grins sheepishly. Just then, Vorik walks by, raising a quizzical Vulcan eyebrow at the two of them sitting on the floor. For some reason, this only makes Tal laugh harder, and the Human joins in. Vorik pauses, opens his mouth to make a comment, but evidentially decides it’s not worth it and continues on, leaving the illogical Bajoran and Human giggling helplessly on the floor.

When they finally collect themselves, Tal wipes her watering eyes with the back of her hand. “Oh Prophets, why was that so funny?”

“I don’t know! You started it!”

Before Tal can offer a retort, the med bay doors across the corridor slide open. Looking up, they see _Voyager_ ’s EMH, glaring down at them.

“Mr. Telfer! Ms. Celes! I am with a patient, if you don’t mind!”

“It’s all right, Doctor.” The captain comes into view. Tal and Telfer scramble to their feet, standing at attention. Captain Janeway smiles and says, “At ease, crewmen. You’re not in trouble. I was just about to head out anyway.”

“But Captain!” protests the Doctor. 

Janeway saunters out the door and the Doctor is unable to follow her, as the holographic emitters don’t extend outside sickbay. She turns and offers him a casual salute before she leaves. “I’ll check back with you later, Doctor. Thanks for the update.” 

The Doctor’s face screws up in annoyance and frustration as the captain disappears down the corridor. He turns on Tal and Telfer and says, “Well, I hope you two are happy! I’ve been trying to get the captain in here for a physical for weeks! And now she’s gone, without me so much as me checking her blood pressure.” He squints suspiciously at Telfer. “What are you doing out here anyway?” 

Telfer, with alarming speed, marches into sickbay. Unsure of what else to do, Tal follows. Telfer dramatically yanks down the collar of his uniform, exposing a bit of collarbone. “Doctor, I have the Phage.” 

What?! Tal is pretty certain the Phage only affects Vidiians. Without thinking, she leans in, peering at his collarbone. Telfer looks down in surprise at her closeness and blushing, she scoots back. 

The Doctor sighs, “Mr. Telfer, we went over this yesterday. You just have a little bit of eczema, that’s all.” 

“But the rash is getting bigger!”

The Doctor rolls his eyes. “I really don’t have time for this. Just use the cream like I told you to and it’ll all be better in the morning, hmm?” The Doctor clasps Telfer by the shoulder and begins to steer him out of sick bay. “Now, toodle-oo! I believe your shift starts in an hour.”

“Hey!” Tal exclaims, surprising both herself and the two men with her outburst. She coughs. “I mean, sir. With all due respect, I don’t think you should be talking to him like that.”

“Ms. Celes, I assure you that young Mr. Telfer here is quite all right. Physically anyway. Ever since we ran into the Vidiians, he’s been in here practically every day, certain he’s been infected, despite the fact that there is no way for the Phage to transfer to Humans or anyone else on board.”

Tal glances at Telfer for confirmation. The Human looks down at his boots in embarrassment. No matter. She stands her ground. “That’s still no reason to treat him so rudely!”

“It’s not in my programming to coddle my patients. I’m a physician, not a psychologist.” 

“Can’t you at least scan him or something?” Tal waves vaguely in the direction of the medical equipment. 

The Doctor begrudgingly capitulates, probably more from wanting them to get out of his (virtually non-existent) hair than from Tal’s powers of persuasion, but she’s still a little proud of herself. Telfer takes a seat on one of the exam tables and anxiously awaits his verdict with a furrowed brow and twiddling thumbs. The scans, as the Doctor predicted, come up negative for the Phage, or Rigellian fever, or any of other the strange ailments Telfer suggests. Telfer grabs the medical tricorder out of the Doctor’s hands and examines it for himself before he is mollified.  

“Now,” says the Doctor, taking back the tricorder, “if both of you will please leave, I have important ship’s business to attend to.” Without further comment, he bustles into his office, leaving Tal to guide Telfer out the door. 

They stand uncertainly in the corridor for a moment, neither looking at the other. Finally, Telfer turns to her and, wiping his hands on his pants nervously, says, “Ms. Celes, I want to thank you for what you did in there. That was… that was very kind.” 

“You’re welcome, Mr. Telfer.” She whispers conspiratorially, “To be honest, I’ve always find the Doctor somewhat off-putting. It was relief to get to tell him off for once. You’d think they’d have programmed him with a better bedside manner.” 

“Oh, he’s all right, in his way. Besides, he’s right about me you know. I was seeing a therapist, but well…” 

Tal nods in understanding. _Voyager_ lost their only psychologist when the Caretaker’s array brought them to the Delta Quadrant. Telfer surely isn’t the only one on board who is hurting from that loss. 

On impulse she asks, “Would you like to join me for lunch before your shift starts? I was just on my way to the mess hall.” 

Telfer’s eyes light up. “Sure! As long as Neelix isn’t serving leola root stew again.”

Tal makes a face, “If he is, I’ve got some extra replicator rations we can use. How do you feel about ramufta?”

“I’ve never tried it…”

Their voices drift off down the corridor as they walk along together, Tal extolling the virtues of Hedrikspooli cuisine.

 


	4. 2374

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> U.S.S. Voyager, Krenim Space

“Billy! Billy!” Tal calls. She coughs. Smoke fills the corridor and she’s forced to drop down on hands and knees. Crawling, she keeps calling out for her friend. A panel above her head ruptures, shooting sparks everywhere. Faster, go faster. He’s down here somewhere. She prays she’ll find him alive.

She hears a shout to her left, through an open doorway. Billy! She darts through the door and stands, her eyes watering from all the smoke coming in from the corridor. Blindly, she feels for the control panel on the wall and shuts the door. As the smoke dissipates, she is able to find him in the opposite corner of the room.

“Oh no,” she moans. Billy’s trapped under a fallen support beam. Worse, as she gets closer, she realizes he’s got some horrible, gaping abdominal wound. Immediately she is kneeling beside him. Taking off her jacket, she uses it to try to staunch the flow of blood.

“Tal,” Billy says, wincing at the effort it takes to speak.

“Shh, don’t try to talk. Just relax best you can,” she responds before tapping her combadge. “Celes to sickbay.” No response. “Celes to the Doctor.” Still no response. She bites her lip. “Celes to anyone. I have a medical emergency in the airponics bay.” Silence. The comm lines must be down. She looks at Billy, his eyes closed tightly against the pain, as if he’s simply willing it to go away.

“Billy?” His eyes fly open. “I’m going to try to move this thing off of you, okay?”

He nods. Tal stands and worriedly examines the beam. Where’s a Klingon or a Vulcan when you need one? She rolls her shoulders a couple times. Just got to dig deep. Squatting, she attempts to lift the beam from below. It doesn’t move, no matter how hard she bites on her tongue. Giving up on that, she wraps her arms around the beam in a desperate hug and tries to move it that way, to no avail. Finally, crying, she simply throws herself again and again at the beam, but it won’t budge, not even half a centimeter.

“Tal,” Billy croaks again, “Tal, stop. It’s no use.”

Exhausted, she sinks down on the floor by his head. With concerted effort, he reaches for her hand and clings to it. She looks down at his pained and dirty face and thinks, _We shouldn’t even be here. Neither of us. We weren’t meant for this life._ And selfishly, _Now I’m going to be all alone._ More tears pool in her eyes and she hastens to wipe them away. She wants to be able see him clearly.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” he whispers. “You’ve been a good friend.”

Tal shakes her head, “Not as good as you.”

Billy smiles feebly. Then with a sudden gasp, his body convulses and his grip on her hand tightens like a vice. A moment later, his hand relaxes, and just like that, he’s gone. Tal’s tears fall freely then, while she frantically tries to recite the Death Chant. Do the Prophets even care about non-Bajoran paghs? She doesn’t know, but she has to do something for him, no matter how ineffective it may be. Her recitation of the chant is fragmented. Someone else has always led the way. Now, though, there is nobody else. The way things have been going on the ship, with the Krenim constantly attacking them, there hasn’t been the time or resources to put into proper funerals anymore.

She fills in the blanks with other prayers, from the Days of Cleansing and Time of Atonement and whatever else she can think of. Tenderly, she closes his unseeing eyes, just as the ship is rocked by an explosion. She doesn’t want to leave him, but if she stays in here any longer, she’s in danger of being trapped herself. For a brief moment, she wonders if maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. One less mouth to feed now that airponics bay is destroyed. Billy is gone; no one else will mourn her loss.

Another explosion and another falling beam banish such thoughts. With one last glance at her only friend in the Delta Quadrant, she escapes airponics before it crashes down around her.


	5. 2376

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> U.S.S. Voyager, Delta Quadrant

Today is the anniversary of the day her family fled Bajor. Ten years she’s been away from home. Tal lies on her back on holographic Bajoran grass, looking up at a holographic Bajoran sky, listening to holographic Bajoran songbirds and wonders what actual Bajor is like now. Certainly nothing like this idyllic program Tabor designed from what she’s gathered in the few precious letters she has from her aunt and siblings. Oh it’s better now, infinitely better, than it was when they left, but fifty years of destruction can’t be fixed overnight.

Something rustles in the grass nearby. She turns her head, expecting to see some sort of rodent or deer. Instead, it’s a person, though she can’t see who, with the sun shining in her face.

“Mind if I join you?” the stranger asks, in Bajoran. Hedrickspooli to be specific, which surprises Tal. None of the other Bajorans on board speak Hedrickspooli.

Tal sits up on her elbows. Her visitor is Marika Wilkarah, one of Seven’s former Borg companions. She is nothing like Seven, however: no visible implants, no lingering Borg mannerisms, no number for a name. She’s even wearing a Starfleet uniform, yellow, like Tal’s own, only with two little pips on the collar. 

“No, I don’t mind.” She sits up straighter as Wilkarah joins her on the ground. “I’m Tal Celes.” Even in her native language, she’s gotten used to thinking of herself as Tal first. All that Federation propaganda they warned her about has had an effect. But then, clearly it’s gotten to Wilkarah as well.

“I know. I looked you up.”

Tal flushes. Why would anyone want to look _her_ up? 

As if she can read Tal’s thoughts, Wilkarah adds, “I am also from Hedrickspool. The way I see it, you’re the closest thing I’ve got to home right now.” 

Tal considers this. It _is_ comforting to hear Hedrickspooli again, from somewhere other than her own brain. And… “I think Third Uncle knew a Wilkarah. In the Resistance.” 

 “It’s very likely. Most of my relatives joined the Resistance, in one way or another.” Wilkarah snorts. “If they had known I joined Starfleet, that I had escaped...  they all wanted to stay and fight, but I couldn’t get off that damn planet fast enough.” 

“But now you miss it,” Tal says, because it’s how she feels too.

“Now I miss it,” Wilkarah agrees. Her dark gaze is sad as she surveys the landscape around them.  “Are we in Musilla?”

Tal nods, “It’s where Tabor is from.” 

“I’ve never seen it myself. Can you believe that?” Her voice rises, full of anger. “I’ve been all over this forsaken galaxy, first as a Starfleet officer, then as a slave to the Borg, but I haven’t even been to half of my own planet! And now I never will.” She bitterly rips at the grass around her. Tal isn’t sure what to do or say, so she silently watches as Wilkarah stews, raking her fingers through the bare patch of dirt she’s created. 

When the silence becomes too much, Tal hazards a suggestion. “There’s a temple nearby if –”

Wilkarah turns on her, practically hissing, “You’ll forgive me if I don’t place much faith in our beloved Prophets anymore.” 

Wide-eyed, Tal stands in alarm. For a moment, Wilkarah looks like a hara cat, poised for an attack. However, her expression immediately softens at the sight of a spooked Tal. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. You were just trying to help.” She stands as well and holds out her hands, palms up in a beseeching gesture. “Please?” she asks, using the Hedrickspooli word normally only used during certain religious ceremonies, a word pleading for understanding and patience, but also atonement. With that choice of word, Tal realizes how deeply wounded Wilkarah is, despite the tough face she’s been presenting around the ship. 

“Computer,” says Tal. The computer chirrups in response and Tal demands, “Show me the Holana River.” 

The landscape shimmers and reforms around them as a wide green river flowing through a valley surrounded by rugged, picturesque mountains. Tall conifers shade a pine-laden path leading down to the pebbled shore of the river. A few waterfowl paddle around serenely, iridescent purple feathers shining magnificently in the sunlight. 

“I know it’s not the ocean, but it’ll have to do.” The majority of Hedrickspooli feel most at home when they’re by the sea. Unfortunately, while Tabor has done an impressive job with this program, so far he’s only focused on the inland sights of Bajor. “Or we can always switch to another program. Ensign Wildman made a beach program and Ensign Paris has a scuba diving program, but they’re both on Earth…” Or at least, she’s seen those programs on the list of available choices. She’s never actually used them herself. 

“No, no, this is fine. More than fine, in fact. Thank you.” 

There still remains some awkward tension between them as they make their way down to the water. Not knowing what else to do, Tal pick up a smooth, flat rock and attempts to skip it across the surface of the river. It plops unceremoniously a few meters out, frightening one of the birds, who flutters frantically out of the water. Tal, feeling incredibly stupid, looks away. 

She hears a plop. 

Turning towards the sound, she sees a ripple of waves from where another rock just landed. She looks up at Wilkarah who shrugs. “I was never very much good at it either.”  Wilkarah lifts one leg and pulls off her boot and sock, hopping to maintain her balance before switching to the other foot. Once barefoot, she rolls up her pants and wades into the water. 

“Wraiths, that’s cold!” she yelps.

Tal squats down and tests the water with her fingers, yanking them out upon first contact with the icy-cold water. “Computer, increase water temperature to 24 degrees Celsius.” 

The computer beeps in obedience and Wilkarah closes her eyes in relief. “Much better.” 

Tal decides to join her, removing her own boots and socks to wade in. She tries to remember when she last went swimming. Billy convinced her to go to one of Paris’ luaus before, but she was much too uncomfortable around everyone else to even think of putting on a swimsuit. And before that – with a shock she realizes the last time was back in the refugee camp. A sad little creek ran behind the camp, and she and some of the other kids had piled a bunch of rocks together in a makeshift dam in order to create a swimming pool. 

“Celes?” asks Wilkarah, her eyes still closed.

“Hmm?”

“Tell me everything you remember about Hedrickspool, about Bajor, about your family.” She pauses. “Even the things you don’t remember. Those are important too.”

Tal frowns and wonders where to begin. Wilkarah patiently waits. Minutes go by, but finally Tal starts, though not necessarily in the place she expects. “I remember the smell… that mixture of salt and fish and kava fruit and –” she swallows, “and smoke.” She stops and looks at Wilkarah, who is nodding along with what Tal is describing, so Tal continues, painting a picture of what they’ve left behind, both the good and the bad, until Wilkarah finally opens her eyes. 

She sighs, though out of contentment or sorrow, Tal can’t quite tell. “Thank you, Celes.” She turns and enfolds Tal’s hands in her own. “Thank you for bringing me home.”

 


	6. 2377

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Planet Quarra

“You’re new around here!”

Tal, startled, drops her fork on the floor. The stranger, a furry squat little alien with a soft voice, giggles and bends down to pick the utensil up for her. “Sorry! Here you go!”

“It’s fine,” Tal takes the fork and wipes it off with her napkin before attacking her meal again. The little round vegetables mixed in with the sweet grains have a hard time staying on the fork. The alien clambers up into the chair across from her. They study her as she wrestles with her food, tilting their head quizzically. Their large, unblinking eyes are rather discombobulating.

“What are you?”

Tal looks up, frowns, “What do you mean?”

The alien rubs the bridge of their own nose. “I’ve never seen ridges like them before. They’re cute.”

Tal squints. The alien doesn’t seem to be flirting with her, but sometimes it’s hard to discern these sorts of things with other species. “Thanks?”

The alien nods vigorously. “You’re welcome!”

“Anyway, I’m from Bajor. It’s a long way from here.”

“Oh. Is it nice, your planet?”

“No.” She doesn’t care to elaborate. Invasion, slavery, total destruction… who wants to hear about that?

The alien doesn’t seem to mind her lack of explanation, though. “Neither is mine. It’s nasty, nasty.” Their ears flatten against their head. “But I guess that’s why we’re here, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Do you see my friends?” The alien points across the room to another table in the restaurant, where two other aliens are seated. One of them waves cheerfully, while the other raises a mug of beer in toast. “Do you want to eat with us? You shouldn’t be alone, oh no. Lots of new friends to make!”

Tal hesitates.

“We’re nice! Swear!”

Tal can’t help but smile at the alien’s earnestness. “All right. Okay, you’ve convinced me!”

The alien’s ears perk up. “Great!” Tal follows them to the other table, and goes through the requisite round of introductions. The first alien’s name turns out to be Bilani and they’re from an androgynous race called the Poktu. Bilani’s friends are a Norvalian woman named Arzan and a Chessu man named Nalor. Like Tal, all three aliens are semi-skilled workers in the Quarren fusion power plant. They talk about that for a while, gossiping about the budding romance between their supervisor and a new arrival named Mulcahey, about last week when Bilani’s console blew out for no apparent reason, and about their other friend’s cross-planet transfer to another facility. During the course of the conversation, it’s generally agreed that while their work isn’t very glamorous, it pays well and the bosses are fair. And the housing! So spacious!

“Back where I come from,” says Nalor, “Everything is horribly polluted and crowded. I had to share a one bedroom apartment with seven other guys! I could barely pay for a packet of dehydrated stew, much less a big ol’ steak like this.” He cuts off a big chunk of meat and chews it appreciatively.

“And it sure as hell beats working on a garbage scow,” Arzan scrunches her face, “I thought I’d never wash that smell out.”

“Plus, we get to meet lots and lots of interesting people,” says Bilani, “Like Tal! All the way from Bay-jar. They’ve got ridgey noses there. But it’s not a very nice place.”

Arzan laughs and pokes Bilani affectionately, “Quit pretending you know anything about it. You just met the girl.” She looks at Tal in mock-seriousness. “Of course, the only important question is this: Do they dance on Bajor?”

“Not often. At least, I don’t.”

“Well, we’re going to have to change that, aren’t we?” Arzan calls out to one of the passing waiters, “Hey, Tom!”

Tom, balancing a tray full of empty mugs and plates, stops by their table. “Arzan! I didn’t even see you guys come in.”

“Too busy flirting with that angry pregnant girl, eh?”

“I’ve told you before, her name is B’Elanna. And I’m not flirting! I… just want to make sure she’s okay is all.”

Arzan hums skeptically. “I see. Well, when you are ready to take a break from not-flirting with B’Elanna, you think you could change the music? It’s a little…”

“Boring?” Tom supplies.

“I was going to say slow, but yes, boring works as well.”

“No worries, I got just the thing. Just give me a sec, I gotta take these glasses back.”

He disappears and not even a minute later, the bar is filled with a deep bass and rhythmic percussion, accompanied by dusky vocals in a language Tal has never heard before.

“This is more like it!” says Arzan as she stands. She shakes her hips with the rhythm and grins at the others. Bilani immediately joins her, skipping in circles around the table, encouraging a reluctant Nalor and Tal to get up, get up!

Nalor groans, “It’s no use Tal. They won’t quit until they see us making fools of ourselves. They’re monsters!”

Bilani pouts, “I’m not a monster. You’re just grumpy.”

Nalor laughs at that and gives in. Happily, Bilani leads him onto the dance floor.

“Tal?” asks Arzan, holding out a hand.

“... I’m not very good.”

“So what? You should see Tom over there when he gets going, flopping his arms around everywhere in some dance he calls the ‘Macarena.’ It’s awful, but he’s having fun, so why should we care?”

Tal looks at Bilani and Nalor dancing. Despite his earlier objections, Nalor does seem to be enjoying himself. And when was the last time she got to just let go, have some fun? Had she truly ever had the chance? This was a new world, a new life. _That’s why we’re here._

She takes Arzan’s proffered hand and the woman laughs jubilantly. Bilani cheers when Arzan and Tal join them on the dance floor.

“I told you,” says Nalor, “They’re relentless.”

Tal laughs, swaying to the beat. At first, she self-consciously imitates Arzan’s moves, but soon enough she’s caught up in the music, her past forgotten, at least for the moment, in the delightfully alien instruments and voices. She doesn’t even mind when the floor becomes crowded and Arzan presses her body close against Tal’s. It feels natural, somehow, safe. Like she belongs.


	7. 2388

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San Francisco, Earth

Standing alone by the buffet, Tal is having uncomfortable flashbacks to her time aboard Voyager. Her former crewmates stand clustered in happy, chattering groups, with several kids dodging in and out of the groups of adults, playing tag. Tal scans all their vaguely familiar faces, but she doesn’t see Billy (William now, she reminds herself), or even Mortimer. Mortimer is not the sort of person you keep in touch with, so she has no idea if he even intended to come, nevertheless, he’d be someone to talk to. With a sigh, she shoves a cocktail shrimp into her mouth, hating how awkward she is around these people. It’s partially her own fault, of course, as she’s avoided the yearly Voyager reunions until now, returning to Earth only once before this to attend William’s wedding. She keeps telling William it’s because she’s too busy on Bajor to visit, but they both know that’s not true, so finally, this year, she agreed to come.

Well, nothing for it, she just needs to get out there and ... mingle. Before she even has a chance to decide which group to approach, however, a child comes barreling out from under the buffet table, nearly succeeding in knocking Tal over. 

“Hide me,” the girl pleads. For a moment, Tal is struck by old fears and instinctively looks around for a Cardassian soldier or a Borg drone. Then the girl giggles and shrieks as a boy, a near-exact miniature replica of Harry Kim, shouts “I found you!” triumphantly.

“No!” exclaims the girl. She looks up at Tal beseechingly and Tal can’t resist. With a grin, she swoops the girl up and out of the boy’s reach.

The girl giggles again as the boy protests, “No fair! That’s cheating!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“I’m going to my daddy! He’s a commander!”

“Oh yeah? Well, my mama’s an a’miral!” she sticks out her tongue from the safety of Tal’s arms. Admiral? Now that Tal thinks about it, the girl does kind of look like Janeway. 

“She’s got you there,” says Tal, teasingly. The boy frowns and crosses his arms petulantly. To appease him, Tal suggests, “Why don’t we go to the dessert table?”

“Dessert!” The Janeway girl claps her hands delightedly together. 

“Daddy says we’re not supposed to eat from that table yet. We hafta wait for the toast.” 

“I see. Well, that’s no fun is it?” The boy shakes his head solemnly. Tal sets the girl down and squats down to their level, whispering, “I’ll tell you what. You two wait right here, stay real quiet, and I’ll get you some brownies. That way if your daddy sees, I’ll be the one to get in trouble, not you, okay?”

Both children nod eagerly. They like this plan. Tal makes a big show for them of sneaking along the walls, tip-toeing in an exaggerated fashion to the dessert table. Despite her antics, she successfully retrieves a pair of brownies from the dessert table unnoticed by anyone else. When she gives them to the children, they giggle conspiratorially and run off with their treats. 

“I saw that,” says a familiar voice. “As if those two aren’t already spoiled rotten.”

Tal turns around and finds herself facing Admiral Janeway.

“Oh! Admiral. I didn’t…”

Janeway holds up a hand to interrupt her, and moves a few steps closer. Her eyes search Tal’s face, as if making sure she isn’t an illusion or a hologram. “Tal Celes. I can’t believe you’re really here.” One corner of her mouth quirks upwards in a half-smile. “I’m glad.”

Suddenly overwhelmed by guilt, Tal stares at her feet, at the strange paintings on the walls, at the buffet, anywhere but Janeway’s face. After all that Janeway had done that day, and the days after, for her and Billy and Mortimer, Tal should have at least written her. Let her know she was doing all right. 

“I’m sorry!” she blurts out.

Janeway laughs, “Don’t worry about it. I won’t breathe a word of it to Harry. A few illicit desserts never hurt anyone.” 

“That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry for… for not coming back. Until now. This just isn’t…” she looks around at all the other people in the room and contemplates how to say this without hurting Janeway. Prophets know the woman had tried her damndest to make Tal feel like part of the team. 

Janeway’s brow furrows with concern. “Isn’t what?”

“This isn’t home. Not in the way it is for the rest of you.”

Though it’s subtle, Tal doesn’t miss Janeway’s flinch. “Oh Tal, I wish things had been different for you. If I’d only known sooner, if I had …” Janeway stops abruptly, shakes her head. “No, no, today is a day to celebrate, and the important thing is that you’re here. So tell me, how are you doing now?”

“I’m doing well.” Tal smiles, “Wonderful actually.” She proceeds to catch Janeway up on what she’s been doing for the past ten years. At first, she was just content to reacquaint herself with her family and Hedrickspool, to rejoice in staying in one place. Soon, though, she felt she had to do more. She began volunteering at a local orphanage and well, one thing led to another, and now she was the director of the orphanage. 

“Those children, they became my world. They still are.”

“No wonder Gretchen and young Mr. Kim like you so much.”

“They seem like great kids.” Of course, as she says this, Young Mr. Kim and Gretchen have gotten into a loud argument, with Gretchen imperiously standing over him with her hands on her hips. The resemblance between her and her mother is now undeniable. 

Janeway sighs. “Most of the time, they are.” She starts to move towards the children, but much to her evident relief, Harry intercedes so she doesn’t have to. She turns back to Tal. “I want you to know, Tal, I still consider you part of my family.”

“Thank you for saying so.”

“I’m serious. And I expect letters from now on. Lots of letters. Maybe some pictures too.”

“I can do that.” She pauses, “Maybe I can even come for a visit?”

“I hope so.” Janeway’s eyes look dangerously close to filling with tears. Impulsively, Tal steps in for a hug, which Janeway receives with surprise. She’s more than happy to return the gesture, however. She pats Tal’s shoulder while whispering, “Welcome back.”


End file.
